changes come around real soon
by Twisted Wonderland
Summary: "They hadn't exactly had schedules that synchronized; she was studying archaeology, he was on a course for time agent hopefuls, and the two paths of study didn't exactly march in beat with one another."
1. Chapter 1

_jack sits back, collects his thoughts for a moment__  
><em>_scratches his head and does his best james dean__  
><em>_"well now there, diane, we ought to run off to the city__  
><em>_diane says, "baby, you ain't missing nothing"_

The first time they meet isn't even in class. Looking back later, River supposes that it would have been difficult to do that. They hadn't exactly had schedules that synchronized; she was studying archaeology, he was on a course for time agent hopefuls, and the two paths of study didn't exactly march in beat with one another. So it's no surprise that their first encounter is after hours. They don't even speak. He has the slight misplace of his step that is characteristic of a man who enjoys a few too many drinks on a Friday night; she is walking quickly because the darkness frightens her since casting off Mels and becoming River Song. They're going opposite directions, but there's something that causes their eyes to lock, and a sense of kinship fills her. Maybe it's because he's been drinking that she can see his own demons in his eyes, but the smile he offers to hide them is so very familiar.

She hurries past because she has a paper on the Fall of Greater Egypt due tomorrow and no more time for socializing tonight.

The second time they meet is at a party. She's made friends here, various other history and science majors who enjoy talking about chaos theories and time travel. The latter is still a relatively new concept for the 51st century, so she plays the fool; this isn't difficult. She wasn't born here, and she misses many of the pop culture references, despite doing her best to be more knowledgeable about them. Sometimes she slips and says something so 21st century that they do a double-take, and it's widely accepted that she is so deep into her study of archaeology that she has had time for little else. They tease her and call her Indy (miraculously, Indiana Jones has survived into the 51st century, though the story is a little different) and make promises to take her to performances and movies. They see her as a person under-nourished on culture, when really she is just comprised of so many cultures that she can never figure out which defines her the most. She decides she prefers the ambiguity.

The party is being thrown by one of her fellow archaeology majors, Dawn. Dawn is dating a girl from the time agency track, and therefore company is more mixed than usual. Some of the more subdued history majors keep eyeing the clean-cut time agent-to-bes with skepticism, but River feels more at home among them than most of her classmates. They lounge about with assurance in their own skill, and she smiles the smallest of smiles. This is how she finds him, propped on a stool as if it is his throne and speaking in a low voice to the person next to him. Though she can't gauge their conversation, it's obvious what the man is hoping for. She slides onto the seat opposite.

"I didn't know you were coming to this party, sweetheart! You said you had studying to do."

The man pauses and turns to look at her with an expression that effectively conveyed irritation. She suppresses a giggle. "Excuse me?"

River leans around him towards the person on the other stool, whose eyebrows were lifted in distaste. "Don't you just hate it when they do this? Run off like you aren't going to find out they're out flirting with everything they can find, bless." She turns back to the man, though she watches the other leave from the corner of her eyes.

To her surprise, he is surveying her with nothing more than amusement now. "Satisfied?"

She tilts her head, gives him the same appraisal. "Marginally."

The waves of confidence radiating from him are almost stifling. "And are you looking to increase that margin?" She smirks.

"No, not quite."

"Oh, going for the mysterious angle. I like it."

River doesn't mention that she's learned from the best. She's asked others if they've heard of the Doctor, but those that do only have heard it as a legend. "What can I say? A liar knows another liar."

The way he leans back, he's surveying her with new eyes, and she approves. Whatever he sees, it's clear that he likes it, and she smiles at him with _that_smile, the one that once belonged to Melody Pond but she is learning to mold into River Song, the one with dangerous eyes and sloping eyebrows, and she takes his hand when he offers it. "Jack Harkness." He says, and she savors the name. It is a proper English name, she thinks, probably from the Scottish moors, and she can't help but relish her smirk when she recalls the meaning of his given name: "the Maker is gracious". She wonders if it is his actual name or a chosen name, then decides it doesn't actually matter.

When she gives her own, it is with a sense of pride that _he_will interpret as smugness, and although there is a bit of that mixed in, the true nature is anything but. "River Song."

The third time is what finally does it, because one night swapping stories and pretending to be war heroes over drinks at a university party does not promise any sort of follow up conversations; that is, unless you are found by Jack Harkness in the corner of a library, pouring over ancient texts that actually have nothing to do with any of your classes. When he speaks, he's leaned himself against a bookcase, trying to pull that handsome time-agent-to-be stuff again (she'll make fun of him for it shortly, but she'll never admit that it works).

He mentions that there is a pod leaving soon for supplies, going to a nearby planet to retrieve things that can't be properly grown or manufactured on a moon's surface, and that, well, he doesn't want to brag or anything, but the locks are so very easy to pick.

The book begins gathering dust within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, you just think you're so slick, don't you?" Despite her tone, River can't help but inwardly appreciate the sight of the soon-to-be Time Agent lounging casually on her window sill. He thinks he's so handsome, that one, and though she'll never tell him so, he really really is. He's handling something, but she can't quite make out what it is. Curiosity wins out over aloofness, and she drifts closer, reaching a hand out to grasp it.

It's at this point that he makes a show of lifting it out of her reach and she catches sight of what it is. A gun. A nice one too, were she to guess by how fondly he was holding it. She impresses herself by being only slightly on guard. "Now, now," he says, his voice the very picture of innocence, "Can't let a little girl like you handle equipment like this."

Oh, now that's a challenge, and it practically sparks like lightning in her eyes. She shifts, not quite grinding against him, and lowers her voice to a purr. "Harkness, you know I'm perfectly capable with all kinds of equipment."

He laughs, but still doesn't hold it out to her. "Not this one. It's special." Jack moves now, rolling off the window and smoothly to his feet (she has always admired his effortless grace), and the moment he lands, his eyes are alight. Oh. She knows that look. "This one is extremely rare. Only ten of them to ever exist. And, get this," He leans towards her with the air of someone sharing a particularly harrowing secret, "Factory is producing them, right? But only ten made before BOOM, the whole place is in pieces! Nobody hurt, it's a robot-operated facility, but it makes it extra special."

She sizes him up with a glance. "Little trainee like you, I doubt you could afford something like that." Then again, he has always held himself with arrogance and they do not often speak of their personal lives. Mostly it is this, snarky quips, adventurous enthusing, flirty banter between sneaking out on exploratuon that is so often consumated in heady kisses and sweat-slicked bodies. It is an easy agreement between them, because Jack knows only River and seems to instinctively know to not seek Melody. The past is quid pro quo and so she never asks and likely never will. But maybe Jack is rich.

He grins. Maybe not. "I can not."

"You stole it," She accuses, not without humor. "Oh, you bad bad boy."

"Liberated it," He says with a tone of mock offense. "It's in safe hands."

"And how safe are your hands, Jack Harkness?" River asks. There is a heavirt meaning behind her words that even she does not know.

His answer is as equally ambigious. "Safe enough to keep you in line, River Song." He answers softly, and their expressions lock. Within seconds it is gone, but she will wonder about it later, perhaps never quite stop wondering, and Jack is babbling again. He is past his enigma, turning straight back into the enthusiastic child, and he insists on teaching her to use the gun. She laughs and impresses him by taking out a chunk of the tree just outside, and he only laughs a little when she is indignant and claims she aimed to knock it down.

There is no questions. No pushing. No pressure. Everything is a challenge in the present, and together they bury the past.


	3. Chapter 3

"You aren't honestly telling me that Indiana Jones is a more competent hero than Iron Man."

"Well, of course. All Iron Man does is throw his money about. He's no more competent than the robot he's zipping around in."

Jack gives an unbelieving shake of his head. "You're only saying that because he's an archaeologist."

She gives a contemplative look, with enough willingness to give a small guilty smile. "Perhaps. A girl knows what to look for in a man. Besides…" River shivers a little, winking at him. "Have you seen the man's skills with a whip?"

Now it's Jack's turn to grin, settling his hands on her hips. "Is that a requirement for all archaeologists? Whip mastery?"

River leans into him, presses her lips against his pulse. "Why don't you get mine out of the closet and we'll find out."


End file.
